on top of the world, alone
by Marquise de Nile
Summary: Sequel to "mortal insult". After the Hokage election, Madara encounters Mito for the second time. The tension between the two rises.


Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

Summary: Sequel to "mortal insult". After the Hokage election, Madara encounters Mito for the second time. The tension between the two rises.

Rating: T

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**on top of the world, alone**

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The sun was slowly setting over Konoha. Various shades, from the bright yellow through molten oranges and blazing reds all the way to the rich burgundy and cooling magenta were painted across the wide canvas of the sky. The colours bled over the imaginary frame, onto the majestic, thick forests surrounding the newly founded village, their vividness conjuring the illusion of a heavenly fire burning the world below indiscriminately and consummately. Sitting on the top of the mountain, far above the rest of the world, provided a magnificent view to the nature's ultimate display of beauty, however even that wasn't enough to soothe the splitting ache in the soul of a lone observer.

Madara looked down over the rocky edge briefly, spotted the streets abuzz in a flurry of activity, snorted humourlessly and threw back another cup of a bitter sake. The preparations for the evening's festivities were in full swing down there but he couldn't care less, draining a cup after a cup in a thoughtful silence. The conclusion of the Hokage election was easily predictable and no one would come looking for him, the losing candidate, as they would be all absorbed in the celebration of Senju Hashirama's victory.

There had never been a question if his rival would be chosen, Madara acknowledged without anger or any other nonsensical emotion. Hashirama was strong, respectable and capable leader who was also revered and loved among the people, his amiable, easygoing personality and disarming smile putting everyone at ease. There was no one who could win with the man in a popularity contest, which brought forth another question – should such a whimsical quality decide the fate of the whole village? What about a person's worth and dedication? Madara himself knew the best how fickle the people really are, how easily they change their minds. The betrayal of his clansmen, who not so long ago had been willing to lay their lives for him, but now chose a Senju over him, was still a fresh wound. Would Hashirama have to suffer from the same disgraceful fate, discarded and forgotten when another strikes the people's fancy?

Another drink of alcohol pleasantly burned his throat and settled in his stomach, warming him up.

Madara quirked a brow as he sensed a person climbing the mountain, displeased with the disruption of his peace. The unmistakable feel of a steadily spiralling chakra and a poised, confident presence informed him of the visitor's identity.

"What are you doing here, Mito-hime? Shouldn't you be by your future husband's side?" he asked flatly, not even looking at the Uzumaki princess.

"Hashirama's busy at the moment with village matters, so I went out for a walk. May I join you, Madara-sama?"

He didn't deign to reply, however despite his unapproachable attitude Mito was undeterred and gracefully seated herself just a step away from him, with her legs comfortably folded to the side. Quite a casual pose for a princess such as her, he noticed.

Madara ostensibly ignored the woman, his eyes trained on the bleeding sky as he took another sip, but Mito had no qualms against giving him her full attention. She took in the sharp profile of his face, the defined, straight lines and angles of his aristocratic features. He was a strikingly good-looking man, she acknowledged with neutrality as she studied him in detail. The long mane of fine inky hair fell down his back, its cut jagged, but instead of looking unkempt, it oddly suited his abrasive personality. Mito's hands itched to run her fingers through his hair and test its softness. Hashirama let her do it with him all the time, so it became somewhat of a habit for her. A habit she would rather not indulge in with Madara, if she knew what was good for her.

Mito stilled her twitching fingers and continued the perusal of the Uchiha leader. She noticed the little wrinkles at the corners of his narrowed eyes and a grimness in the unsmiling lips, even as he poured himself another cup of sake and drank it quickly without tasting. She was momentarily distracted by the way his Adam's apple moved up and down when he swallowed, then snapped her gaze up and met his dark, expressionless eyes boring into her. They were dissecting her, trying to bare her weakness to him, a hint of a mocking challenge glimmering in their depths, but she would have none of that. She would not be cowed by this man. He wanted her to run away and leave him alone, she instinctively understood this through the innate sense of empathy she possessed, so she would do the opposite and stay.

"Is there something you wish to say?" he asked, aiming to rattle her with the sudden switch to impertinent familiarity in the way he addressed her.

Mito drew up, unafraid to meet his challenge head on.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely, throwing him off with the unexpected apology.

"What for?" Madara inquired, as he furrowed his brow in utter puzzlement. She didn't wrong him, at least not personally, so why was she apologizing?

"I'm sorry about your loss in the election."

He looked at her with disbelief, then irritation welled up inside him.

"Don't play with me. I know you wanted Hashirama to win. You must be happy, just like the rest of them," he gestured towards the village beneath them.

Mito smiled. "You're right, I am happy for Hashirama. But I'm also sorry that you lost. It's not impossible to feel both of those things at the same time."

He stared blankly, unsure how to respond and simply taken aback by the certainty and directness in her words. Mito's gentle smile didn't waver, but gradually disappeared from her lovely face, however her warm brown eyes stayed in contact with his cool dark ones. Suddenly, Madara snorted and reached for the sake bottle, breaking the tension.

"Let's assume I believe you on this. So, if I won, how would you feel? I bet you'd be disappointed on Hashirama's behalf," he remarked, pouring himself a drink.

Mito wasn't perturbed by his caustic attitude. "That may be so, but in that case I would only be disappointed for entirely selfish reasons. I would know the village would be safe anyway."

Madara shot her a curious look. "Most people would disagree with you. The popular opinion states that I'm a bloodthirsty demon who would lead Konoha into a never ending war to satiate my lust for blood and glory," he cited a rumour he had overheard being whispered behind his back quite a few times. Uchihas prided themselves for their exceptional sight, that was a given, but it didn't mean any of their other senses were deficient. And Madara had an impeccable hearing.

"Well, I'm not most people," Mito replied with a cheeky smile.

Madara appraised her slight figure in silence. She was resting on her side in a half sitting position, leaning towards him, one hand on the ground keeping her upright, the other laying freely on her knee. He could tell that while not entirely relaxed, she was also definitely not on alert. He perused her in detail, trying to make her uncomfortable as his gaze slithered up her tucked legs, past the slim waist and the torso clad in a pale blue yukata decorated with swirling patterns, up to her serene face.

"No, I suppose you're not," Madara admitted abruptly and returned to his drink. "So you don't believe in rumours?" he asked nonchalantly, changing the topic back to its original course.

Surprise flashed in Mito's eyes – she didn't expect him to continue the conversation without being prompted. She quickly recovered and gave her answer. "Usually they're just a pack of lies. You can't make a right, informed choices based on such an unreliable source. Otherwise I wouldn't be sitting right here, talking to a supposed demon, would I?" she flashed him another smile.

"Right," Madara agreed. "What are your reliable sources, then?" he inquired.

"The people I trust. But I still like to see things for myself before forming any opinions," Mito divulged and shifted in her spot, rearranging her limbs to get herself into an upright position.

He gave a vague sound of agreement, focusing back on his drink. He picked up the bottle and frowned, the decrease in weight and quiet sloshing inside informing him there was barely any alcohol left on the bottom. He reached to refill his cup with the remains anyway, but a dainty hand curled elegantly around the bottle's neck, stopping him. Madara looked up into Mito's smiling eyes.

"Let me pour you the sake, Madara-sama" she requested softly.

He nodded and let her take the bottle from his grasp. "Do as you wish," he said uncaringly.

Mito leaned closer and filled his cup, careful not to spill a single drop. Madara thanked her and sipped on the alcohol. Somehow it tasted even better than before. He refused to think that she made that difference.

"Hashirama talks about you a lot," Mito mentioned easily as if she was merely commenting about a strangely-shaped cloud or that the prices of fish went up recently.

Madara's eyes shot back to the woman instantly, his attention caught. "What did he say?"

"Only good things. You're the one he respects the most," Mito replied seriously, her gaze searching his face. "You were his first friend outside the clan. He used to brag about it to me."

"Is that so?" Madara's tone was dry and closed-off. He didn't like to be reminded of the days before, when there had been just two boys throwing stones across the river. "What about you? Didn't you know him even earlier?"

Mito recognized him deflecting the subject onto her but she didn't exactly mind. "Yes, we knew each other as young children, but we didn't become friends until much later. I had to shatter quite a few of his bones before he started paying attention to me," she smiled wryly.

"He can be thick-headed," Madara agreed readily and finished the last cup.

Mito laughed – and it wasn't that annoying, high-pitched giggle so many women liked to utilize to make themselves look coy, nor was it hurting his ears – it was a melodic, warm chuckle that lit up her rich brown eyes with that inner shine of true beauty. With the sunset behind her inflaming the red locks kept in neat buns on her head, she looked like a goddess of radiance and, for a brief moment, Madara allowed himself to be entranced by her glowing appearance, the charming laughter and warm, vibrant chakra. Then, he deliberately closed his eyes and the darkness beneath his eyelids snapped everything back into focus.

"Why did you come here, Mito-hime?" he asked without preamble.

Mito immediately sobered up after her moment of amusement. "I came to see you, Madara-sama," she replied calmly and, not missing a beat, turned the question on him. "Why did _you_ come here?"

"There's no reason for you to want to see me," he replied, ignoring her question like a wind blowing away a smoke screen. She wouldn't derail his train of thought so easily.

"On the contrary," Mito graciously accepted his insistence on this topic, "I have every reason to want to see you."

Madara eyed her sceptically, so she elaborated.

"The Hokage was chosen and I doubt you found the outcome surprising, even though you are as qualified for the job as Hashirama is. Yet, you are here, all alone and drinking. It's very telling."

"Get to the point," he said irritably.

"Of course," Mito replied pleasantly, unbothered by his brusque manner. "I wanted to come, because you needed the company."

Madara blinked at the woman's odd proclamation, then rolled his eyes. "I don't need company."

"You were stewing here in your thoughts until I came. Everyone needs to let it out from time to time before they go insane. There's no shame in this, it's a fact of life," she explained softly, hoping that he wouldn't misinterpret her words for pity and deny the help she was offering.

What Mito didn't say was that she had sensed a terrible darkness dwelling in his heart, a darkness that, if allowed to fester, would encroach and consume him whole. Even during their first, brief meeting she had known it was there, flaring to life and steadily growing. What would happen if Madara, the man of equal strength and ability only to Hashirama, was left alone to stare into the abyss?

Mito didn't want to think of all the horrifying possibilities.

The Uchiha remained silent, considering her carefully, searching for falsity in her expression but coming up with nothing. Then, a smirk appeared on his face as he leaned close to her, the scent of sake heavy on his breath. Mito didn't move a muscle, but he was sure the forced proximity had to rattle her a little on the inside, even if she was unwilling to show it. His hand raised slowly and toyed with a charm hanging from her bun as he leered at her.

"Maybe you should first think of yourself, Mito-hime," he said lowly, his voice dropping into a threatening whisper. "Keeping me company may be too risky... especially for your reputation."

He grasped the bun and deftly undid it with a flick of his wrist, the hair unraveling quickly and spilling down on her shoulder in crimson waves. He observed with satisfaction as something flickered in her eyes. Now that he violated her personal space, she would finally cease her foolishness, of that he was certain. Women were simple like that.

"I appreciate the concern, but you should not worry about my reputation, Madara-sama. I am more than capable of taking care of it by myself," she responded evenly, but the strain around her eyes suggested that she didn't like his audacity. Even her words became more formal.

She was still trying to reach out to him, however he would show her the error of her ways. If she thought she could fix him, heal him by being his friend, then she was horribly wrong. He was Uchiha Madara of the great Uchiha clan and he didn't need any help, especially from a self-conceited person such as her.

It would take just another push for her to realize this too, he was certain of that.

Madara gave Mito an unnerving look, like a carnivore considering its prey before pouncing, all the while toying with a long lock of her hair, wrapping and unwrapping it around his finger. "I didn't see you defending yourself just now," he pointed out, striking at the flaw in the argument she'd made. "If that's how you take care of things, then you're doing it poorly."

Mito frowned and grasped his wrist. "Stop this," she said tautly. He thought she referred to his messing with her hair, so he was caught off guard when she continued. "I know what you're doing. You're trying to scare me off."

"Is it working?" Her blazing courageous eyes beckoned him forward and he unconsciously leaned down, their noses almost touching, before he paused in his descent.

"No, that's why I'm telling you to stop." Mito licked her lips in what he recognized as a nervous gesture, inadvertently drawing his attention to their succulent redness. "Are you that scared of connecting with people?" she murmured sadly.

Was she _pitying_ him? Madara's eyes narrowed in displeasure. Earlier, he'd believed that she wasn't responsible for the insult the Uzumaki clan had dealt him. He should have known better. She was mocking him just like the rest of her pathetic family. She would have to suffer the consequences.

He wouldn't hold back.

"I'm not scared of anything, princess... but you should," Madara hissed with malice and struck at her most vulnerable spot that was so tauntingly close.

Mito had noticed the darkness flaring inside him. She regretted not watching her tongue more and preventing this situation from even occurring. She instinctively knew Madara would react badly, maybe try to hurt her, so when he suddenly moved for her, she was anticipating him.

Madara dipped his head down, going after her parted lips. Maybe it was just the alcohol, but they seemed to mock and tempt him the most. They needed to be dealt with.

At the same time, Mito snapped into action and shoved at his shoulders with all her chakra-reinforced might, sending him on the ground with a loud thud. Then she scrambled up to her feet, saving as much of her dignity as she could muster and brushed herself off briskly as Madara recollected himself, returning to the upright position and glaring daggers at her. However, he could feel a sliver of satisfaction at driving her away, though it was not as strong as he thought it would be.

"Forgive me for taking up your time, Madara-sama," Mito bowed, but she didn't sound like she was sorry at all. She still felt jittery inside, baffled and indignant at his attempt of breaching the boundary of what was proper between an unattached man and an engaged woman for no better reason than satisfying his hurt pride, but also relieved that he hadn't succeeded. "Actually, I haven't told you my other reason for coming here." She reached into the folds of her kimono and retrieved a letter, which she promptly handed to the Uchiha. Her hand was shaking a bit, but she immediately corrected herself upon spotting this sign of weakness. She didn't want him to know just how rattled she was.

Madara looked over the beige, ornamental envelope and gave her a puzzled look.

"It's a wedding invitation," Mito informed him. "In a month, I'll marry the Hokage. As the second candidate and the Uchiha clan leader, you are the first guest, after the Uzumaki and Senju families of course."

His expression was wiped from all emotion, revealing nothing as he took in her words.

"Then why did you bother with talking to me, if all you wanted was to deliver this?" he asked bluntly. He was more than a little annoyed at her needless attempts to get closer to him instead of conducting her business and leaving straight away, like a messenger should.

Mito cast him an assessing look, calm and regal again. She had a good grasp on her emotions, something he could appreciate in a woman. "I was curious about you. I trust Hashirama's judgement but I had to see for myself what kind of a person you really are," she reiterated what had been already revealed in their conversation.

"And? What did you gather about me?" Madara's tone was acerbic, the only sign of his irritation that he allowed to surface.

Mito smiled enigmatically, the bloody red sunset enveloping her slim figure as the light danced and reflected off her scarlet, free locks, making them look like a real flame.

"I learned that you have a lot of personal issues. They would have weighed you down, had you been chosen to become the Hokage."

Before the meaning of this declaration sank in, she turned and walked away, heading back to the village. For a while Madara followed her retreating form with blank eyes, then once again began his interrupted observation of the sky. Sun was almost completely behind the horizon and the dusk was rapidly approaching. The village below was getting closer to the start of celebration but Madara didn't move away from his spot, alone and statue-like.

A piece of a burning paper fluttered down from the mountain and was blown away by the wind.

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**The End**

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_AN: This is something old that's been sitting on my computer since January and I finally got the energy to work on improving it. I like how the interaction between Madara and Mito panned out this time. The first time around I made Mito too flirty and it just didn't agree with my impression of her as a character, so I had to correct a lot._

_I hope you enjoyed the story!_

_-nile_


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